Can't Stand Up for Sitting Down (30 page)

In my
opinion, politics is about endless compromise and the ability to see the other
person’s point of view. Margaret Thatcher was the Queen of Rigidity and in my
book that is not a very attractive quality.

My main
problem with Margaret Thatcher, apart from her being a dyed-in-the-wool
Conservative, was the fact that she appeared to have no sense of humour. There
were a number of occasions when she was called upon to do jokes in her
speeches, and it was patently obvious that she didn’t really know what she was
saying. Famously, in one speech when she was supposed to say. As Moses said,
keep taking the tablets,’ I think she substituted the word ‘pills’, thus
indicating that the joke that was staring her in the face had completely passed
her by.

One of
my favourite (reported) stories comes from when she was visiting a factory, and
while moving through a group of young lads, remarked to one of them, ‘That’s an
enormous tool you’ve got.’ Much sniggering ensued … to Thatcher’s complete
bafflement.

Tony Blair

I was not one of the
bright young things who paraded round Downing Street at one of Tony Blair’s
famous parties when he got into power. Britpop was at its height and they
allowed the famously unpredictable Gallagher brothers in, among others. I was
still plugging away in the background, doing benefits and rather unacceptably
later on supporting Ken Livingstone when he was chucked out of the Party to
stand as an Independent for Mayor of London.

However,
as time went on, I was called upon to go to various events and say a few words
in support of the Party. I remember being at a rally in Hove just before the
2005 election, as the seat there was under threat, and found myself seated next
to David Blunkett whom I had not seen for many years. In fact, the last time I
had encountered him was at a MIND benefit up in Scarborough, at which we were
both due to speak. We were in a room having a coffee and I was surreptitiously
smoking in the corner, in the days when smoking was allowed in the corners of
hotel rooms. David, of course, is blind — and he shouted to the whole room,
‘Who is smoking in this room? I do not like it!’

So, I
was forced to sidle up to him and admit my guilt. Didn’t get us off on a great
footing: the teenager versus the grown-up.

In Hove
though, we were matier and he seemed to have forgotten the smoking incident
even if I hadn’t. I was sandwiched between David Blunkett and Cherie Blair.
Tony Blair came along the row, shaking hands and saying hello, and he gave me a
kiss, with the words, ‘Thanks so much for everything you’re doing for us, Jo.’

I
thought back to my schooldays, recalling how a few teachers in exasperation had
told me I wouldn’t amount to very much, and wished I could have had a photo
taken to send to every one of those teachers, accompanied by the sound effect
of a big raspberry. Just for the record, the Labour Party scraped in at Hove,
so it might have done a minuscule bit of good.

Over
the past few years leading up to the most recent election (2010) I have done
more for the Labour Party than ever before, and have had to console myself with
the fact that Labour lost less badly than they could have done. There have been
a couple of Labour women’s dinners that I have compered, and it has been very
satisfying to perform to a room of left-wing women.

There
is still a great lack of women in politics and I think it’s important to do all
we can to encourage women to go into this life, hard as it is. It is very
important that our politicians reflect society as a whole and at the moment,
gender-wise and race-wise, we can hardly say that they do.

The
question arises then about whether you should artificially increase the number
of women in Parliament by having women-only short-lists, when you are looking
for a candidate to stand for the election. I am uneasy about doing this, but
cannot think of a more effective way to up the proportion of women MPs.

Some
years ago, I did a couple of events for something called Emily’s List. This is an
organisation that started up in America to support women candidates financially
who were attempting to achieve a career in politics. The word Emily is an
acronym for Early Money Is Like Yeast (it grows). Geddit? Sorry, America, but
there is something quite yucky about that.

I
hosted a dinner to raise money and found myself sitting on a table with some
real Labour Party luminaries. I was sat next to Betty Boothroyd, who at the
time was Speaker of the House of Commons. I half expected her, because that is
the image I had of her, to start a singsong or give people great big comradely
bear hugs. Interestingly though, I found her very reserved and quite difficult
to talk to. Clare Short, on the other hand, said to me something like, ‘I hope
you’re going to give them some shit.’

Barbara
Castle was by that time in her eighties, yet she gave the most articulate,
rousing and entertaining speech I had heard for years. She had always been a
heroine of mine, and it is such a relief to meet one of your heroines and find
them to be everything you hoped they would be.

Eventually,
I was asked to an evening for Labour Party celebs to meet Tony Blair at a hotel
near Downing Street.

There
too were Helen Worth (Gail from
Corrie),
Anthony Minghella, Steve Cram
and Melvyn Bragg among others.

I find
these events a strange mix of fascinating and rather uncomfortable, and they
make me want to ask, ‘Why are we here?’

Tony
Blair was only allotted so much time as he glided round saying hello and being
charming to each of us. I found myself thinking, I must say something
politically astute that he is a) impressed by and b) decides will become Labour
Party policy. And then of course, as he got round to me, I just ended up
saying, ‘Oh hello, that’s a nice tie,’ or something similar.

I think
that Tony Blair was probably the first child of the media-led politics
generation. He was very astute and media-savvy, looked good in front of the
camera, never seemed ruffled and always said the right thing. And that counts
for a lot these days. Shallow though it may be, it seems to be what impresses
the punters.

Gordon Brown

Poor old Gordon Brown, on
the other hand, does not easily do that media thing. As a person I admire him
enormously, because I think his heart is in the right place. He has a strong
sense of what is right democratically, and I believe genuinely wanted the best
for the country and all the people who struggle with their lives. But something
happens when you stick a camera in his gob that turns him into a different
person. And these days people want their politicians looking like handsome
estate agents in sharp suits. Gordon Brown, because of his rather  hesitant
manner and slightly strange mannerisms, was dismissed by a large number of the
electorate as a bit of a weirdo.

However,
all my meetings with him have shown him to be a warm, humorous, intelligent and
dedicated person. I’m not convinced he’s a bully, although I do reckon he’s got
a scary temper on him, but I haven’t seen any evidence of that.

The
first time I was due to meet Gordon Brown properly. I was at a charity event at
Downing Street, but also due at a Labour Party dinner across Town that I had
been asked to arrive at on time. As the minutes ticked on, several aide types
came over and said to me and a couple of other comics, Lee Mack included, ‘The
Prime Minister will be over to meet you in a minute.’

Eventually
it got too late, and when an aide came over for a third time and said it was
going to be another five minutes, I had to say I couldn’t wait. Lee Mack
thought it was hugely amusing that I blew out the PM, but truth be told I was
dying for a wee as well so I had to move. Oh, how the great moments in one’s
life are scuppered by the bladder.

I also
did a couple of women-only fundraisers organised by Sarah Brown, who is as
composed, quietly humorous and generous as she appears to be. These events were
again to raise money, but also to encourage more women to get stuck into
politics. Those attending were a mixture of women celebrities, prominent Labour
Party women and a sprinkling of wealthy women.

To digress
for a minute, at one such event I was compering, I sat next to a very rich
woman who asked me whether I did birthday parties. In all honesty, I don’t
really like doing birthday parties because the guests all tend to know each
other, and that changes the dynamic of the evening — since there is always the
lurking possibility that they will turn on you as one. However, I did not
immediately dismiss the idea, although as this woman was hugely glamorous,
about twenty-two and absolutely dripping in squillions of pounds’ worth of
jewels, I couldn’t imagine that an act such as mine would really fit in amongst
the glitterati of Belgravia.

‘Who
did you have at your last birthday?’ I enquired. ‘Stevie Wonder,’ came the
answer. I gulped inside. My appearance at that woman’s birthday party was never
going to happen.

I was
granted a private five-minute ‘hello’ sesh with Gordon Brown last time I did a
women’s fundraiser for his wife. In the room were me, Alesha Dixon and Gordon
and Sarah, plus some security bods and the inevitable photographer. We had a
relaxed chat and I marvelled that these moments were probably repeated
endlessly throughout the lives of politicians and must be like a living hell.

At
Christmas one year, Jack Dee and I did a show on Radio 2, and just as a laugh,
I asked whether Gordon Brown would contribute a comedy line for it. To my
surprise he agreed, and the producer and I went to Number Ten to record the
line, which included a self-deprecating comment about being dour. After we’d
done it, Gordon said he was off to a party for Labour supporters at a hotel in
Central London and asked if I’d like to come with him. I said I’d love to, and
was then invited to travel there with him in his official car.

We were
led down through the bowels of Downing Street, exiting at the rear straight
into his waiting Jag. We both sat in the back, security men in cars at the
front and behind, and flanked by outriders on bikes. It was one of the most
exciting experiences, driving through the centre of Town extraordinarily fast,
chatting to the PM and wanting to wind the window down and shout, ‘Hey, look,
everyone — it’s me!’ But I didn’t, of course. Just sat there trying to look
cool and behave as if I did that sort of thing all the time.

I found
it really sad watching Gordon and Sarah Brown and their children leave 10
Downing Street. The election, if one could manage to be objective, was very
interesting because, given how unpopular Gordon Brown was, one would have
imagined that David Cameron would walk it.

However,
I think people were suspicious of Cameron; he’d not had a very good press in
terms of how posh he was, and his and Boris’s link to the Bullingdon Club in
which a load of over-privileged youths smashed up a restaurant and then paid
for the damage, didn’t show them in a very pleasant light. So where did the
votes go, that Cameron didn’t get? To Nick Clegg, who had suddenly acquired the
status of a celebrity following the television debates? But no — the Lib Dems
lost
seats. They went, I presume, to cushion what could have been a much worse
Labour defeat. So then the negotiations began, and to be honest, I never had
any faith in the Lib Dems coming to any agreement with the Labour Party.

And so
we were presented with a Tory/Lib Dem coalition. Will we have the harshness of
the Tories, leavened with a bit of Lib Dem niceness? So they’ll bring back
hanging but they’ll allow people a scented candle while they’re being executed?
I have to try not to think that we’re being ruled by a bunch of Eton toffs or
else I’d get too depressed. I predict the Lib Dems’ input will get teenier and
teenier until you can almost hardly notice it. Promises made before the
election have already been broken, and I wonder how long it will take the
British people to get sick of the draconian measures the Tories are taking to
correct the deficit.

I don’t
think in politics that there are any definitive answers. For instance, who
caused the global economic crisis in the first place?

It
depends on who you vote for.

Local Politricks

And, of course, here in
London we are being ruled yet again in a micro-way by the Tories, as a bunch of
nanas voted Boris Johnson in as London Mayor for some reason. This
floppy-haired, overgrown schoolboy was not my choice, and one can only hope
that he puts his foot in it a few more times. He does occasionally seem like a
young Duke of Edinburgh in the gaffe department.

But why
did people vote for him?

People
I know who did so, in the main, said they voted for him because he seemed like
a laugh on
Have I Got News for You.
Well, so did Tom Baker — but I’m not
sure I’d want him as Mayor of London. And Boris lives in North London, so he’s
obviously rubbish.

Celebrity-type
exposure is encroaching more and more on politics these days. Politicians are
on entertainment shows and celebs are going into politics. It’s a rum old
situation which, carried to its logical conclusion, may mean that (God forbid)
Piers Morgan or Simon Cowell could end up running the country if we’re not
careful —in which case I would indeed emigrate.